Just Like You
by Still-insomniareader
Summary: Song-fic, it is an AU to what could have happened-ish. To be Honest it is just a short story. The song just fit it entirely too well to not be mentioned. I love Draco, so I had to write him a story...


**Just Like You**

Draco hated his father. He never wanted to be a bully. He had never wanted to be a death eater. He had always wanted to be an Unspeakable. To study new spells, to research the unknown. He had always slightly admired muggles' ingenuity. He'd thought to rebel. He hadn't always followed along.

**I could be mean**

**I could be angry**

**You know I could be just like you**

He had been six when he had first thought of a rebellion. His father had made him watch the torture of a little muggle girl. She had been five. He could still see her tear streaked face as she begged for her mommy. Even while she was being crucioed. He had cried that night and many more after. Two weeks later when he had finally got up the courage to say no. Lucius had a house elf bring him into the study, where his mother was on her knees on the floor. Her hair was messed up. His mother's hair was never messed up. That was his first inclination that something was up. When the first spell was cast. It had seemed harmless. Now he knew the truth, it was a spell that increased the senses. The next thing that happened still scared Draco to this day. His mother was tortured, crucioed, because he had rebelled. That day Draco gave up.

Or so his father thought.

**I could be fake**

**I could be stupid**

**You know I could be just like you**

He had in fact had a very advanced thought for a six-year-old. He realized that if his father didn't see, wouldn't hurt him. So Draco developed a system. He never spoke without analyzing the repercussions. He hid his true emotions, caged them. He almost never lost control, the first and only time he did was when he was 10. He had spent the afternoon at the Notts'. After calling his elf, Fiddle, to take him home he had had a conversation with him. Explaining his day and laughing. That night he heard a scream. Rushing from his bed he stopped with a lurch at the stairs. There, on the platform, was the body of Fiddle. His head lay down a few steps below. Lucius was standing over the elf with a strange glint in his eye, this quickly turned cold as he noticed his son. His only words where this, "Servants are Servants, not friends." These words were accompanied by a sneer. Since that day, Draco wore a mask. Anyone who said they 'knew' Draco, was a liar.

**You thought you were standing beside me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

Lucius lived under the impression that he had created the greatest death eater. Draco, in his mind, had become a cold hearted, ruthless man. But in real life, Draco despised his father and his beliefs. In real life, Draco worked against his fathers precious cause. Having overheard Potter talk about Snape being a spy, he approached his godfather to help. Anything to stop the massacre.

**You thought you were there to guide me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

**You thought you were there to guide me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

Snape was proud of his godson. This was the first time he had ever felt this feeling, for anyone. Pride, a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements or achievements of those with whom one is closely associated. Draco had lived a life that often produced the worst of results and by his own will, had changed it all.

**I could be cold**

**I could be ruthless**

**You know I could be just like you**

The crying was the grandest torture of this job. The captured muggles and entrapped muggleborns. All kept in the Malfoy's dungeons, like livestock. Most were used as such. The women and some children, used in a most deplorable way. Men used as entertainment, children as puppets, and everyone used to make an inconceivable point. The amount of pain felt in this unholy hall was insurmountable. He tried to help, without implicating himself. His schemes almost always worked. A silent tip off to St. Mungos, timed portkeys, and another death eater implicated in the escape. His plans where flawless. The Light side was just as puzzled as the dark.

**I could be weak**

**I could be senseless**

**You know I could be just like you**

Draco had seen memories of his father's ceremony. The night when he received the Dark Mark. The only feeling he received from it was a slight feeling of happiness. At least his father received a small amount of retribution for all that he had done. The screams torn from Lucius' throat where bone chilling and painful just to hear. They continued for 2 minutes. The spell cast wasn't fully for a tattoo, it also branded you. Thats why no one was able to remove it. It was painful, excruciatingly.

Draco took his, tonight.

**You thought you were standing beside me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

The Dark Lord was perched upon an awe-imposing red and black throne. The Malfoy's dining hall had under gone a complete Gothic makeover. Black was the fore-running color in the whole room, gone where the gold filigree vases and the long elegant deep blue silk curtains and the polite while slightly warm atmosphere. In it's place was the cold hard truth of war.

**You thought you were there to guide me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

**You thought you were there to guide me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

"So, the young Malfoy thinks he has the drive to join my group of elite fighters, does he?" Voldemort's voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Draco, but he didn't show any discomfort.

Bending down upon one knee he said, "I can only try, my lord."

You half-blood dictating scum. "And try I will, 'till I breathe my last breath my fealty lies with you." I have no loyalty so that's not a lie. "You are all awe imposing." Nothing more awful than an impostor who thinks he can rule.

"Well Lucius, he has your flare for the dramatics..." Voldy had trailed off. With the feeling a sharp pain in his head he realized why. Throwing up his shields, Draco kicked him out of his head. He hadn't gotten in, he just reached the precautionary shields. What he had done was second nature. It only took Draco a moment to understand that what he had done could result in serious repercussions.

Glancing up at Voldemort, he was able to see a sliver of shock upon his face.

**On my own, cause I can't take living with you**

**I'm alone, so I won't turn out like you**

**Want me to**

Draco felt something deflate in his soul. He knew he was going to be punished now. No one defied Lord Voldemort and lived to tell the tale. He started thinking about what would happen if he died. Potter would defeat Moldy Shorts, Uncle Severus would be recognized as a hero and all would be well. He was thinking of what would happen to his mother when something distracted him. It was Voldy. He was laughing. Not the I'm-a-Evil-Lord-and-No-One-Can-Stop-Me laugh, no a full on belly barrel laugh, one you'd expect from jolly Uncle Bob after a few pints of mead.

"Ah, I needed that. Wow, haven't been kicked out that fast in so long." Voldemort looked pensive. "Last time must have been... Oh '44, and that was Grindelwald."

**You thought you were standing beside me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

Within a second, Voldemort's face changed. In the slightly less creepy faces place was the stone facade of a sociopath. "You will make a fine addition to our ranks. That is if you survive the initiation." With those final words and a low muttered latin incantation, Draco felt the worst pain he'd ever felt in his entire life. Including the multiple crucios he has had to endure. His left fore-arm burned. It burned as if Draco had placed it on the sun and it was now stuck. The pain continued for what seemed like hours but was only minutes. Until the pain stopped. He collapsed, his mouth full of copper, for he had bit his tongue in an effort not to scream. It had worked.

**You thought you were there to guide me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

**You thought you were there to guide me**

**You were only in my way**

**You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you**

The first thing Draco saw when he opened his eyes after the pain stopped was his father's smirking face. It looked as if Lucius thought that is was his influence that had caused his son to succeed. Draco gathered his strength and knelt. Holding his fore-arm he could feel a slight warmth. Weird... Lifting his eyes he locked gazes with the red eye's of his new 'Master'. There was something in the Lord's eyes that made Draco think of an owl that had caught a squirming mouse. Satisfaction, and the promise of a new toy.

**I could be mean**

**I could be angry**

**You know I could be just like you**

Standing at the edge of the Black lake, Draco threw a single flower into the placid water. Narcissus Triandrus, otherwise known of Angel's Tears. My mother had perished in the final battle against Voldemort. She died protecting three Slytherin first years. She turned to Severus for help to switch sides shortly after he, Draco, had gotten the Dark Mark. She'd been so happy when she found out about Draco's assistance in the war. They, Narcissa and Draco, had been assigned to protect the few children who hadn't had time to escape the castle before the Death Eaters attacked. His arm had kept burning as Lord Voldemort continued to call the remainder of his Death Eaters to his side. It was distracting. So he didn't see the 5th year, loyal to her father's cause, sneak into the common room. It had been a short fight. The girl and his mother dead in a minute. Narcissa had died quickly, the only mercy of the killing curse. All the children they were charged to protect survived. The battle was over in a day. With Voldemort dead, and the remaining Death Eaters in a renovated Azkaban, and the trials of the spies being stretched out as long as the 'Light Side' could, trying to gather damning evidence on those who possibly saved many innocent lives. Draco didn't care. He'd told his story, under Veritaserum and Wizards' Oath, and he'd been cleared yesterday. Today, he was saying good-bye. But tomorrow, he didn't know, only that he'd wouldn't be anything like his father.

Started this a few months, maybe a year ago. Just finished it.


End file.
